What Should Never Be
by pixiegiggles
Summary: A Dead To Her World outtake, set about 3 months before that story begins. An Eric pov of Life Without Sookie.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Soooo … you can thank __**charhamblin **__for this li'l ditty. When she asked in her last review for a bit of Viking internal monologue explaining what exactly happened when Sookie and Eric broke up, I was inspired. I know a lot of you have been asking, so hopefully this gives you a bit more insight. It doesn't answer ALL your questions (c'mon, a girl must have some mysteries, no?), but it should shed a bit of light on things :)_

_Btw- I'm going to San Diego on Saturday, so you probably won't see any updates from me for at least another week or so. I'm gonna be hanging out with my ff bestie/Viking-porn dealer/rayray … well, I could go on and on and on…_

_*ahem* there will be lots n' lots of tweeting/dweeting/tumblr-ing, etc… so, you should totally follow both of us on twitter … just sayin' ;p Link to my twitter page is on my profile._

_Huge thanks to __**chiisai-kitty **__for getting this back to me with faster than vamp speed!__ Any mistakes remaining are, of course, purely my own._

_Disclaimer: See chapter one._

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I couldn't quite believe I was actually out here; leaning against the hood of my car in front of Sookie's house as I waited for her to get home, like a creepy as fuck stalker.

If I hadn't been so angry when I'd stormed out of Fangtasia an hour ago, I probably would not have allowed myself to discard all common sense and pride. But it was too late to turn back now. I was here, and I was set on getting exactly what I'd come for.

Which was to make Sookie see that she'd finally lost her damn mind.

When she'd broken things off with me about three months ago, I suspected she'd lost touch with reality, _her_ reality. But now, I was fucking certain.

When she'd come to me to tell me of her decision, the certainty in her eyes made it clear any argument would be moot. We'd ended up agreeing that she would be retiring her telepathic services, and that we would just let our bond fade away. There was nothing I could do, though, about our marriage. She greeted that news with unsurprised resignation, and walked out of my fucking life.

I knew it was hard on her—I could see it in the devastated slope of her shoulders. But she did her best to hide it, and I reciprocated by pretending not to see it.

Truth was, I didn't give a shit how fucking hard it was for her. It should have been impossible. It was for me.

But, actually, what really fucked me up was that as much as I was pissed at her, I was equally proud of her. She was doing what she needed to do to protect herself. No matter that it wrecked the both of us in the process, it was still an instinct that I could admire and appreciate; self preservation.

So, after a couple of months yo-yoing between swearing off all feeding and fucking, to drowning myself in it, I finally managed to attain a very precarious approximation of that which I sought; a state of semi-conscious numbness. I was no longer a fucking time bomb that could go off any second. That is, until Pam thought that it would be a good idea to make me aware of Sookie's pending nuptials.

Suddenly, I could feel every cell in my body perk up. She was nearing. I felt her moments before I heard her car approach, and I fucking hated it. God, it had been months since we'd last exchanged blood.

How long would it fucking take to get Sookie Stackhouse out of my system?

I didn't really want to know.

She slammed her car door and stalked over to me. The confusion that appeared on her face when she first spotted me was replaced in quick succession first by concern, then by that trademark defensive anger of hers.

"Eric, what are you doing here?"

_Well good evening to you too, lover. _"What, no kiss? For your _husband_?"

She flinched. "Eric ..."

Was that pain I saw flash across her eyes? It was too fucking fleeting to be sure. She quickly pulled the curtain on that shit, though. "I'm _so_ not doing this with you right now."

She pretended to busy herself with rooting around in her purse for her keys as she tried to make her way past me, but I easily stopped her in her tracks, grabbing her arm to hold her where she was.

"Oh, but we _are_ doing this," I hissed. "Right. Fucking. Now."

She gasped, cringing away from me and only making my anger flare that much more.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. Did you really expect for me to just roll over? Must I remind you that I am not a dog, unlike your … hmm , what shall we call him? Distraction? Toy? Pet, maybe?" I sneered, the malice in my voice turning up with every word. "Tell me, Sookie. Does he heel nicely for you?"

The fear in her eyes was quickly replaced with anger. The pure, unadulterated, indignant stuff. She yanked her arm away and placed it on her hip, jutting her chin out.

Fighting stance.

"_You're_ not gonna call him _anything_." She punctuated her outburst with a poke to my shoulder, her face all hard with determination and self-righteous fury.

But then, something made her back off, her face soften. "Look, Eric—I'm sorry. I know this can't be easy, but … I thought we'd settled this. There's really nothing left to say."

"Oh, I think there's _plenty_ left to say. We can start with why you decided to marry a fucking dog—oh, I'm sorry, a shifter—when you are supposedly trying to cut out all supernatural ties from your life."

She folded her arms and glared at me, all wide-eyed and gape-mouthed.

Of course, I ignored all the warning signals of the coming hurricane that was Sookie's gathering fury. I was just picking up steam myself.

"But a _dog,_ Sookie?" I continued. "A dirty, stinking fucking _dog_?"

"Eric, you stop that this instant. I will not stand here and listen to your blatant racist comments." She let out a deep breath and looked as if she was trying to rein herself in. "Look, we've been through this. Far too many times."

And there it was. That look. The same one that had been there on her face all those months ago, when she'd come to see me, to rip my fucking heart out. Or, as she would have put it, to 'say goodbye', or 'dance our last dance' or some shit. I couldn't remember exactly, and I didn't fucking want to.

It was the look that said this decision has already been made; there is absolutely nothing you can do to change it; there is nothing left for you to say.

Oh, but I would have to disagree with you there, once again.

There was _so much_ left to say.

"Why, Sookie?"

"Why? Why what? Why Sam? Do you really want me to tell you all the details?" She gave me a sideways glance. "Or why am I getting married in general? C'mon, Eric. Did you really expect me to mope around and be lonely and miserable for the rest of my life?" she paused. "Is that what you would really want for me? Look, I hold no delusions. I know that you only survived this long because you are pragmatic, and ruthless, and … well, you would call it strategic; I would call it cold. But, petty? Cruel? That is not the Eric I know."

_Well, maybe you don't know as much as you think you do. _

"Don't try your fucking psycho babble bullshit on me, Sookie. If it doesn't work for Pam, with all the hours of Dr. Phil and Dear Abby she's logged, it certainly won't work for you."

She gave me a sad little smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"But to answer your question. No. What I expected is for you to come to your senses. You know, for your sanity to return. That obviously didn't pan out."

She sputtered.

"Come _on_, Sookie. You don't actually believe that a mere pooch will be able to satisfy you."

"This conversation is so over, Eric. Actually, it was over, like, five minutes ago," she huffed and stomped off towards her house, muttering, "I don't even know why I bother with this crap."

"What, so you've actually convinced yourself you're going to have that white picket fence, the two kids, and a dog?" I called out after her. "Oh, right. I'm sorry. You already _have_ the dog. Look at that, you're already being so frugal, like a good little suburban housewife."

She shot me the death glare over her shoulder before yanking the door open and slamming it behind her.

The pain I felt in my chest was almost enough to bring me to my knees. Trouble was, I couldn't quite tell if it was her pain I was feeling, or my own.

And I wasn't entirely sure that I really wanted to know.

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A/N Dawww … dontcha just wanna give the poor baby a big ol' hug? Uh … you COULD give him an e-hug by pressin' the li'l green button there. Oh, okay, I'll shut up now. Love you all & thanx for reading! Muah!


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: So, this was originally just supposed to be an o/s. But since you all still had so many questions for the viking... well, let's just say he decided to pay me a little visit. So if you have any other questions, you should totally leave 'em in the review. You never know, the Viking might decide to answer you. Just sayin' ;p**_

_**Thank you to chiisai-kitty for her super ninja beta skills.**_

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"I know you do have a very talented tongue, my little pixie," the deep all-too-familiar sex-voice whispered at her ear. "But I do believe your _fingers_ would be more suited for the task of typing."

Pixie gasped as bolted up to a sitting position, clutching at her chest. She shot an indignant glare over her shoulder, only to forget what she was trying to do as she took in the Viking in all his heavenly glory. He was dressed in a pair of very well fitting jeans, clinging to all the right places. And nothing else. The ripped muscles of his entire upper body were on full display.

"Eric! Don't sneak up on me like that!" Pixie huffed. "Geez, you know I've been watching that supernatural show… I get all jumpy with some harmless flickering lights, much less a giant Viking appearing out of thin air!

Eric crossed his arms as he narrowed his eyes at her. "Hmm, yes. I am well aware. I believe you have let those silly 'hunters' take entirely too much of your time, as of late. Must I remind you they _are_ fictional characters? Besides, your time is much better spent writing. About me, that is." he waggled his brows and fixed her with the lopsided grin of the devil.

"But I need some inspiration!" she protested, only to be met by an arched, highly dubious VikingBrow. "You know, all our readers are getting kinda frustrated with you."

Eric's smile widened and turned impossibly naughtier. "A _good_ kind of frustrated?"

He gave another waggle of his brows.

Pixie rolled her eyes as she tried to bite back her own smile.

"Ugh. It's not like your ego needs it, but you are more than well aware that you always cause that kind of, uh…" Pixie chewed on her lower lip, her eyes raking down Eric's shirtless chest until they came to rest at the hard-to-miss bulge of his jeans.

Her eyes widened.

After Eric allowed her to ogle and drool for a more than gracious plenty moment—in the name of inspiration, of course—he cleared his throat. "Enjoying the view?"

Pixie's eyes snapped back to his with an impish, unapologetic grin. "Oh, _always, _my dear Viking. But you already knew that." She paused, shaking her head to clear it. "Anyways … yes, but you are also causing the other kind of frustration—you know, not the kind caused by friction?"

Eric gave her a blank look.

"Look, they just think your internal monologue could be a little more, um … light-shedding?" Pixie heaved an epically massive sigh. "Um … they think you're too vague."

Eric grabbed a chair, flipping it around and straddling it. He crossed his arms over the chair's back, resting his chin on his forearms and staring at Pixie intently. "And how do _you_ know this?"

Pixie threw her arms up in frustration. "They barrage me with questions! In the reviews. Every fucking time I think we've answered a question, five more pop up!" Pixie was getting quite worked up now, as was apparent by her language and the frantic gesticulating of her hands.

Eric let his gaze linger on those typing fingers which he so adored for just a beat too long, but then he quickly lifted his searing sex-gaze to her face. He gave her the tolerant smile a parent gives to a sulking child.

Of course, this only darkened Pixie's mood.

"Where are these reviews you speak of?" Eric questioned gently.

Pixie let out an annoyed sigh, then turned back to her computer and navigated over to the story review pages.

"Here." Pixie gestured to the screen, where she had brought up the reviews page.

Eric leaned in so close, his hair brushed against Pixie. She focused on reining in her heavy panting and kept her eyes on the computer screen. But apparently it was a total failure, because Eric turned to her and gave her a sly smirk, licking his lips seductively for maximum effect. When Pixie visibly shuddered, he chuckled and turned back to the screen.

"Well this isn't so bad. I don't see what you're getting all … _worked up _over, little one."

Pixie glanced over to the screen and skimmed the first review:

**ericsmine**

**2010-07-22 . chapter 1**

**Sookie you are lucky you are a fictional character else god help me...To break my vikings heart for a dog? Am sorry I am not getting that.**

"Well, I don't know about 'breaking' my heart. That's a bit overly dramatic. But this person is obviously at least somewhat intelligent. Going for the sniveling mutt when you can have the prized pedigree?"

Pixie gasped. "Did you … did you just describe _yourself_ with a dog reference?" she asked incredulously, narrowing her eyes at the Viking as she searched his face.

Eric simply shrugged it off and returned his attention to the screen.

After another moment, he sighed and leaned back, crossing his arms in front of his bare chest and making those infamous pencil-eraser-nipples pop oh-so-deliciously. "I really do not see what the problem is."

He waved at the screen, and Pixie hurriedly read the review he was pointing at.

**Seamstress  
2010-07-22 . chapter 1**

**Nicely done! I always like reading Eric's point of view. It always gets to me when his feelings are laid bare. You did a great job of expressing that.**

**Looking forward to the next installment! **

"Well?" Eric demanded impatiently, pushing those pecks up even more.

Pixie huffed in frustration, rolling her eyes as she turned back to the computer. "Hang on. Lemme see if I can find ..." Pixie trailed off, scrolling down the page. "Okay, well here's one. From tvgirl."

**Tvgirl**

**2010-07-22 . chapter 1**

**Thank you SOOOOO much for that. But now... the real question is... why the FUCK did Sookie break it off with Eric, exactly? And how did she convince herself she loved Sam enough to marry him? What was the catalyst that made her finally end things with Eric and what happened the night she did? (Eric might call me greedy for asking, but inquiring minds want to know, nutella sweetness!)**

The devilish lop-sided grin that spread across the Viking's lips made all of Pixie's girlie bits perk up. In the most delicious way.

"Oh, I would say greedy and with the dirty mouth of a Russian whore," Eric purred.

"Oh, shut up, Viking. You know you love a dirty mouth."

Eric threw back his head and laughed. "Indeed. Indeed I do."

"Well?" Pixie pressed. "Are you gonna answer the questions, or what?"

Eric stared at the screen for an extremely long moment before replying. "Would you like to type the response, or shall I?"

Pixie nudged the laptop closer to him and looked on as he typed the response.

**Dearest greedy & dirty-mouthed fan,**

**In an effort to encourage my Pixie to give her full and undivided attention to writing **_**me**_**, I will answer your questions. **

**Many of you seem to be lumping together two very separate issues, one being Sookie and I separating, the other the question of her questionable choice of a mate. The second was done months after we went our separate ways, so it wasn't like she was running from my arms (and bed) into his. To be perfectly frank, I am very much insulted by this fucked up notion.**

**As for your other question, she decided to break it off in order to protect herself. Much as I disagreed with her warped logic, I **_**was**_** pleased that she was finally learning some sense of self preservation. She was right that her life, her extremely fragile mortal life, was in much danger by way of her contact with the supernatural world. I believe the brutal massacre of her pregnant fairy cousin, along with all the other casualties of that asinine Fae war, had a little something to do with it. (It was a few weeks after that bloody night that she came to visit me at Fangtasia to tell me of her decision).**

**Oh and as for how she convinced herself she could love that dog? Well, your guess is as good as mine. I suppose it had something to do with that white picket fence and 2.5 kids she's always day-dreamed about, but really who the fuck knows? This **_**is**_** Sookie we're talking about.**

**Sincerely,**

**Eric Northman**

Eric hit send before turning to face Pixie with a smug smile. "Anything—or anyone—else I could help you with?"

"I … uh …." Pixie stammered, opening and closing her mouth as she tried to gain back at least a tiny bit of her brain function.

Eric rose to his feet and looked down at Pixie from his considerable full height, sticking his thumbs into the loops of his jeans and making them dip down in the most tantalizing manner. Boy, that man could sure spell a V, pixie mused as she attempted to not let any drool escape her gaping mouth. "I think it would be best if I took the reins from now on, so to speak."

Pixie merely responded with a muffled GUHHH.

Eric began to walk away, pausing at the doorway to give Pixie one last wink over his shoulder. "Why don't you let me deal with all these pesky questions from now on? You keep those fingers working on your favorite Viking. You may email me any further inquiries that are in need of my attention."

Pixie's went all cross eyed at that pronouncement. When her vision—and brain function—finally returned to her, she found herself once again all alone in her room.

Giving the Supernatural DVD one last, longing glance, she turned her attention back to the computer screen.

_Now that's what I call some Viking-sized inspiration, _she thought as her fingers began to fly over the keyboard.

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A/N: So, I hope that answered some of your questions. Sorry I've been such writing fail... but I will return to the next DTHW chappie. (Just as soon as the writing muses decide to return, lol.)

By the way, if my stories should happen to ever get pulled off here, you can find my stuff here too:

http: / fandomfiction . com/users/pixiegiggles


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